Beatrice
by Azelle-244
Summary: Beatrice encounters strange things at a ball she attends...my first fan fic! please read and review!
1. Default Chapter

Fortunately, Daniel Handler owns all of these characters.

Beatrice glided through the throngs of people all gathered for this special event, occasionally she exchanged a "good

evening" with a passing guest, but otherwise, she was silent. "Beatrice" said a man's voice, she turned, "James" she said,

kissing her fiancée on the cheek. From across the room Beatrice spotted Esme, glaring bitterly at her. Beatrice was

surprised Esme even recognized her; it was, after all, a masquerade ball. Then Beatrice saw him, darting in and out of

people, he was dressed as a bullfighter. "Lemony" she whispered under her breath, "pardon?" asked James. "LEMONY!"

she yelled. It happened so fast, the guards carried him away as he called "BEATRICE! COUNT OLAF IS ALIVE"

Beatrice pushed her way through the crowd, trying to make her way towards the door. But she stopped, when she heard

the one word that had begun all of the trouble. "FIRE!" the hall erupted, it was mayhem. Beatrice looked all over, rooted

to the spot. James was nowhere to be seen, as was Esme. Finally she ran, down the grand staircase with the carved crows,

through the green room, until she reached the library. On hands and knees she fumbled around the floor, pulling up rugs

and tossing furniture aside. "Well, well. Hello Beatrice" said a snarling voice that seemed very familiar, she whipped

around, Olaf stood there, in his hand was a flaming torch. "Don't move or that pretty dress of yours will go up in flames"

he said. Beatrice heard a woman's giggle; Esme was standing behind Olaf, also holding a torch. "Burning down houses is

ever so in!" she squealed. All the while Beatrice had been running her fingers through the cracks in the floor, tying to find

the trapdoor. Finally, one of the floorboards came up, just as Olaf dropped his torch and cackled. "Soon all of V.F.D.

will go up in flames!" he yelled, Beatrice, unnoticed as Esme and Olaf performed a victory dance, climbed through the

trapdoor. Safe in the dark passageway, she sank to the ground, breathing in the musty underground scent.


	2. Beatrice pt2: the woeful wedding

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Beatrice scanned the obituary section of the Daily Punctilio. There it was, Lemony Snicket. She gasped, _No, it can't be. _But there it was, written out plainly;

_**THE DAILY PUNCTILIO**  
"All the News in Fits of Print"  
Obituary Page _

_Lemony Snicket, an author, was reported dead today by anonymous and possibly unreliable sources. His age was given as "tall, with brown eyes." One of three children, he leaves no known survivors. _

_Born on a cattle farm rather than in a hospital, Snicket had a promising scholarly career in his youth, beginning with a job as a theatrical critic — in all senses of the word — for this very newspaper, followed by the publication of several promising anthropomorphic treatises, a word which here means "very long reports." This period of professional contentment — and, allegedly, unrequited love — ended when news of his involvement with V.F.D. and the accompanying scandal was reported in this newspaper and at least one other. _

_Mr. Snicket became a fugitive from justice and was rarely seen in public, and then usually from the back. Several manhunts — and, due to a typographical error, womanhunts — proved fruitless. At last their story, and his, appear to be over. _

_As no one seems to know when, where, how, and why he died, there will be no funeral services. A burial may be scheduled later this year._

He was dead. Lemony was dead. The newspaper fell from her grip, just as James walked into the room. "Are you ready?" he said, but her head was still rushing. _He must've thought I didn't love him anymore. Because of James. No. no. _she had to be dreaming, Lemony was dead. And she was going to marry James, because she loved him. Didn't she? "Yes" she said standing up. _Lemony's dead. You can marry James, Lemony's dead._

Beatrice fiddled with the string of pearls around her neck, she didn't like weddings. As she walked down the aisle, people sighed and cooed. Her heart was pounding, when she reached the alter she searched the crowd for Lemony's face, but didn't see it. _Perhaps he's in disguise._ She thought, but then remembered, _no. he's not coming back. _Her thoughts were interrupted by the priest, "James Christopher Baudelaire, do you take this Very Fine Damsel as your wife?" "I do" said James; he was staring at Beatrice with misty eyes. "And do you, Beatrice Eleanor Winchester take this man..." She glanced at the priest. Those eyes...that voice.... "I do" she said before she realized that she had made a very, very grave mistake in believing Lemony Snicket was dead.


	3. 

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Beatrice scanned the obituary section of the Daily Punctilio. There it was, Lemony Snicket. She gasped, _No, it can't be. _But there it was, written out plainly;

_**THE DAILY PUNCTILIO**  
"All the News in Fits of Print"  
Obituary Page _

_Lemony Snicket, an author, was reported dead today by anonymous and possibly unreliable sources. His age was given as "tall, with brown eyes." One of three children, he leaves no known survivors. _

_Born on a cattle farm rather than in a hospital, Snicket had a promising scholarly career in his youth, beginning with a job as a theatrical critic — in all senses of the word — for this very newspaper, followed by the publication of several promising anthropomorphic treatises, a word which here means "very long reports." This period of professional contentment — and, allegedly, unrequited love — ended when news of his involvement with V.F.D. and the accompanying scandal was reported in this newspaper and at least one other. _

_Mr. Snicket became a fugitive from justice and was rarely seen in public, and then usually from the back. Several manhunts — and, due to a typographical error, womanhunts — proved fruitless. At last their story, and his, appear to be over. _

_As no one seems to know when, where, how, and why he died, there will be no funeral services. A burial may be scheduled later this year._

He was dead. Lemony was dead. The newspaper fell from her grip, just as James walked into the room. "Are you ready?" he said, but her head was still rushing. _He must've thought I didn't love him anymore. Because of James. No. no. _she had to be dreaming, Lemony was dead. And she was going to marry James, because she loved him. Didn't she? "Yes" she said standing up. _Lemony's dead. You can marry James, Lemony's dead._

Beatrice fiddled with the string of pearls around her neck, she didn't like weddings. As she walked down the aisle, people sighed and cooed. Her heart was pounding, when she reached the alter she searched the crowd for Lemony's face, but didn't see it. _Perhaps he's in disguise._ She thought, but then remembered, _no. he's not coming back. _Her thoughts were interrupted by the priest, "James Christopher Baudelaire, do you take this Very Fine Damsel as your wife?" "I do" said James; he was staring at Beatrice with misty eyes. "And do you, Beatrice Eleanor Winchester take this man..." She glanced at the priest. Those eyes...that voice.... "I do" she said before she realized that she had made a very, very grave mistake in believing Lemony Snicket was dead.


End file.
